A Striper Bum in Trout country

    I grew up on the East Coast, Long Island to be exact. Although I started fly fishing when I was twelve, I never caught a Trout on a fly until I was almost seventeen. It wasn’t for lack of locales, more so it was a lack of desire. I started with Bass and Bluegill and quickly graduated to Bluefish and Stripers. Trout were more of an afterthought in my fishing ventures and in many ways still are. When I would chase Trout in my teenage years it was because they were the first species that the season opened for. I would ride the bus or hitchhike to whatever lake seemed to offer the most promise (read: most heavily stocked). With a spinning outfit a few Mepps Roostertails and maybe some bait I was set for the day.

    Fast forward several years and go clear across the country.  I got a job offer that brought me to California in January. I’d never been and well, it was freaking January in New York. Work kept me pretty busy the first couple of weeks and then suddenly I realized I was in the middle of the desert. I’d seen the beach out here but mention of fishing; much less fly fishing just brought confused looks from the locals. I may have even been asked if that was a new type of surfing or I could just be remembering poorly, it wouldn’t be the first time.

    Los Angeles quickly lost my interest and I soon found myself in the high Sierras packing mules and smack dab in some of the prettiest Trout country you ever saw.  It was hard to pass much of the water I was riding by, so naturally, I didn’t.  With an eight and a half foot five weight stuck in one of the panniers I made some, umm, extended stops. Purely to let the stock rest of course. Catching smallish wild fish on dries has a way of becoming addicting to nearly anyone and I still find myself laughing to the trees when a wild Brown misses the fly and leaps several times it’s body length out of the water.

 Although work, family and more have brought me back to L.A. I still find my way to the high country to fish for Trout on occasion. I don’t think that they will ever take the place of my beloved Stripers, they do make for a nice diversion here and there; mostly when the lakes seem completely devoid of any fish with stripes. So what if I may make a stop on the way home to sight fish to some Carp (my second favorite type of fishing). When I’m there I’m perfectly happy giving myself over to watching my fly bounce along the surface until it disappears with a flash of either buttery yellow or silver and rose.

                                           Till next time.